


Period Pains

by Dark_and_night



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Other, gender neutral reader who has periods, period pains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24005617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_and_night/pseuds/Dark_and_night
Summary: You have some pretty bad cramps.
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Reader, Brahms Heelshire/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 160





	Period Pains

Curling up into yourself, you bit your lip, wishing that the grocery boy had brought pain killers along with the last delivery. 

You had made it through the day with a smile on your face, going through the list, and Brahms had behaved wonderfully. His parents had been right when you first showed up to the mansion. If you treated him well, he’d treat you well. Over the last year, you had tried to get Brahms to be less rigid with his schedule, finally being able to take weekends off from his lessons. 

Brahms also would let you go into town on Saturdays after you reminded him of the benefits of the local library. You could collect all new books for him to read during the week. You could go to the drugstore and get painkillers as well, but today was Friday, and the prospect of suffering on the couch until tomorrow seemed like a fate worse than death. 

Hissing through your teeth when another painful cramp contorted your insides, you noticed a shadow in the hallway.

“Brahms?” You mumbled, lifting your head weakly. 

The tall man shuffled into the living room, his footsteps completely silent. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, sitting on the ground by the couch, cross legged.

That couldn’t help but make you smile, Brahms and his childish habits. You snaked your hand out and took his hand, running your thumb over his knuckles.

“I thought you were in bed.” You smiled.

“I can stay up.” He replied, resting his chin on the couch next to your head. “I heard you whimper.”

“I’m just in pain.” You sighed, kissing his fingers, when a thought crossed your mind.

Does he know what a period is? Your eyes widened at the thought. Sure, Brahms had been well educated in poetry and music and fine arts, but was he ever given the puberty talk? Did his parents even try to? If they treated him like an eight-year-old for twenty years, did they even bother to talk to him about his changing body? Did they ever think someone would love him? Would they bother to explain a period, something his future lover might have, or did they just…ignore everything?

The thought was so horrifying you felt your eyes well up, looking at the poor man who sat by your feet. He had been left out of everything his whole life, even his parents never believed someone would love him. That was why they had thrown you to the wolves and killed themselves, believing Brahms would use you like a living sex doll.

How wrong they were about their own child. What disgusting human beings they had been. 

You saw Brahms’s eyes widen behind the mask, him noticing your tears. “What hurts? What can I do?” He asked, panicked.

The tears fell, and you wiped them away with your free hand. “I just love you so much, Brahms.”

Brahms gasped slightly behind his mask, moving away from you, pulling back his hand. 

“You love me?” He squeaked. His hands twitched before he started tugging at the sleeves of his cardigan, looking away from you.

“I do. And I’ll take care of you forever.” You whisper, hiccupping slightly from crying. “I promise.”

Brahms eyes stayed downcast, his hands tugging at his sleeves even harder.

“No one will love me.” He squeaked, moving farther from the couch. It sounded as if he was repeating something he had heard many times. “So, I need to be good so people will stay.”

That made you want to cry more, and you bit your lip to try to keep yourself from full-blown sobbing.

“You just have to be you, my poor Brahmsy.” You murmured, wiping your eyes on the couch pillow your head rested on. “You don’t have to believe me, because I’ll prove it to you every day for the rest of my life.”

His bangs covered his eyes, so you couldn’t try to read his expression. But you noticed his shoulders shaking, and then a muffled whimpering came from him. 

Brahms was crying.

“Oh no, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You fell of the couch, crawling over to him, gently taking his shoulders in your hands. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry…!”

He buried his face in your shoulder, his body shaking furiously as his cries became louder. 

“You have to promise.” He sobbed, using his little boy voice, a voice you had-for the most part-gotten him to stop using. And it broke your heart all over again. This wasn’t Brahms your lover, this was Brahms the boy. The odd boy. The burned boy. The boy who was hidden away out of shame, the boy who never got to grow up. “Promise me again!”

“I promise, baby boy.” You whispered into his ear, politely looking away when he lifted up his mask to wipe his eyes on your shoulder. He didn’t need you peeping on his facial scars when he was already so vulnerable. “I’ll always be here for you, and all you have to do, is be my Brahms.”

He continued crying for what felt like an eternity, your heart breaking more and more with every moment, before his voice dropped back to that of a grown man, he wiped his eyes one last time, and slipped his mask securely back on his face.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “You were in pain, and I just…”

“It’s fine.” You kissed his ear, pulling back. “It’s just cramps. It happens every month. It’s just a bit worse than usual this month, love. It happens.”

“Cramps?” Brahms asked, picking you up and setting you back on the couch. 

You nodded, putting your hands on your lower stomach. “Yes, I’ll explain everything about it tomorrow, but please, right now I just want to curl up in a ball.”

Brahms was silent, looking at you up and down, trying to make sense of your words.

“What can I do?” He finally asked. 

You thought for a moment, thinking of what exactly he could do for you sans making pain killers appear. 

“Lay behind me?” You ask.

Obediently, he climbed behind you, being the big spoon. You gently took his hand, running it under your shirt and half-under your pants, right where the worst of the cramps were. His hand was so warm and big, it was almost as good as a heating pad. 

“Oh god.” You sighed softly. “Can you put your other hand there too?”

You felt him nod, and his other hand snaked under you and into your pants, putting it next to his other one. 

“Oh god, thank you so much.” You nuzzled your body into his, every part of him like a furnace, relaxing your angry pelvic muscles. 

“You’re welcome.” He mumbled softly. 

The two of you stayed there for a while in silence, the cramps that had nearly brought you to tears finally residing.

Your breathing slowed, and you felt sleep was coming fast. As your body relaxed, you felt Brahms shift slightly behind you. 

“I love you too.” He breathed against your ear, so quietly you could barely hear it. But you did hear it, and you tried not to smile, knowing that even if he wasn’t ready to say it to you awake, it didn’t make it any less true. He loved you as you loved him.


End file.
